Peter Brotzmann/Fred van Hove/Han Bennink - FMP 0130

UMS/Atavistic 244

One of the virtues of the re-release of earlier free jazz albums is that, especially if you happened to miss it the first time around, you get to hear something 25 or 30 years on with, perhaps, a bit more objectivity than would have been the case at the time. By the same token, there’s a good chance that you might also be unable to capture the frisson of sheer excitement that may have been generated by an approach that seemed daring and rewarding when first explored. On this disc, a reissue of a 1973 FMP set (originally titled, I believe, “Brotzmann/van Hove/Bennink”, here apparently re-titled by Atavistic, “FMP 0130” or “FMP 130” if you go by the spine), the trio performs ten shortish pieces, each one given a compositional credit. So instead of widely ranging free improvisation the listener gets a pretty clear idea of the individual approaches of the musicians, making for something of a smorgasbord rather than a thoroughgoing conception. Indeed, one of the interesting aspects is the playful Dutch attack versus the generally, er, stridently serious Germanic one. Bennink’s impish “For Donaueschingen Ever” (the second version called “Donaueschingen for Ever”) opens and closes the disc, with a wild piano/celesta run segueing into a furious drums/bass sax duo, parlor piano, yells and much else. Here, as on several of the Dutch-penned tracks, one detects a spirit not dissimilar from Willem Breuker at his orneriest. Next up, however, is Brotzmann’s “Konzert fur 2 Klarinetten” (the second, presumably, wielded by Bennink), a banshee wail at fff, the keening reeds producing ear-splitting overtones guaranteed to offend all but the staunchest fans. It’s pretty good. The album more or less wanders between these two poles, though not really so neatly divided. Brotzmann’s “Nr. 4” contains more than a little slapstick while Bennink’s “Paukenhanschen im Blaubeerenwald” has a good bit of “straight ahead” free playing, for instance. Brotzmann turns in some typically fine, fiery work on his featured pieces, showing some cleanliness of articulation that’s became more and more absent as he aged, van Hove is clever throughout and Bennink drops more than a few bombs amidst his typically high-spirited fireworks. Some guess work is involved in assigning instrumental roles, though when in doubt, I’m assuming Bennink is the guilty party (the “etc.” listed on the instrumentation credits presumably covers much ground, including some throat singing and something that sounds like a Partchian variation on the banjo).

I imagine that had I heard this album in the 70s, I would’ve found the variety and grab bag nature of the presentation thrilling in its wide-rangedness. I still find it basically enjoyable though I have a nagging wish for a more complete statement from the guy who gave us “Machine Gun”. Brotzmann himself, to be sure, didn’t stray down this avenue very often, though hints of it remain in the variegated compositional palette of his Tentet. But, at bottom, Brotz is Brotz and Breuker is Breuker and it’s probably a good idea for the twain to meet only occasionally. Brotzmann fans not expecting the earth to move but looking for some well-placed jabs to the ribs will enjoy “FMP 0130” just fine.